Dinner Date
by Anovia
Summary: Arthur tried to be romantic! :D... Arthur should never try to be romantic. :( ... This is just a quick example as to why Arthur shouldn't be allowed to cook.


**This is a one shot based off of another story I have, Raising Kids. I feel like everyone should know what happens when England tries to make food. This is why we never eat England's food. Ever. No matter what he promises. This is a cautionary tale. You have been warned.**

**Disclaimer: I am hungry... but I don't want England's food. Never England's food. Even if I owned Hetalia, which I don't.**

* * *

"I was thinking about what you said earlier..."

"And you finally decided it's time to have sex? Thank God I didn't know how much I longer I could take it!"

"What? No. We've only been dating for 3 weeks."

"This is the longest I've ever been abstinent."

Arthur simply turned to face Francis with a look of confusion and disgust as a response. After shaking his head and muttering questions to himself like 'why did I start dating this guy?'. "What you said about trying to be more romantic. So, here's my room key. Meet me there at 6 sharp. I thought I could do something special for you for Valentine's Day."

At exactly six, the French teen knocked on his boyfriend's door. He was wearing a pink button up shirt accompanied by a black tie. The bottom of his shirt was untucked as to cover the top of his black dress pants. The gentleman who opened the door was rewarded with a bouquet of roses. Said gentleman wore a white button up with a black vest. He matched this with black pants and similar colored shoes. He thanked Francis with a kiss on his cheek as he silently walked inside, locking the door behind them. Arthur immediately went to retrieve a vase for the roses and placed them on the center of the table. The circular table had a white cover and two place covers. There were 2 white plates with silver brims stacked on top of each other, the top one smaller the other, on opposite sides of the vase, which was adjacent to a basket full of bread. There were five utensils per side, all placed appropriately. The chairs also had white covers, as well as a silver bow tied in the back. Soft music was playing in the background, the lights were dim, and the scent of lavender wafted through the air.

"Wow, this does look pretty romantic. Bravo," Francis said loosening his tie, taking a seat on the chair nearest to him.

"I don't know why you'd ever doubt me," Arthur smirked.

"You're right; this looks like something I would've thought of. Well, except the fact that I would have used gold instead of silver."

"What?"

"_Oui,_ to me, silver is more of a lets be friends color."

"You really couldn't just appreciate the scenery?"

"I would've left notes to lead you to a location based on questions only you'd know the answer to. Then, lead you to the actual dinner by using rose petals. Lastly, I would've left a poem on the salad plate."

"Well not all of us have years of practice!"

Francis looked upwards to his right chuckling to himself, "I suppose that much is true. Shall we begin?"

"Whatever frog," Arthur said taking his seat.

The two spent about ten minutes talking, arguing, and eating bread and store bought salad. For once Francis thought that Arthur had done something right. Then a bell went off.

"What was that?" The French teen asked curiously.

"Dinner," Arthur smiled.

"You didn't order it from somewhere?" Francis questioned as his face slowly paled. "_Mon Dieu_, you didn't make the salad did you?"

"I had forgotten about the salad so I bought it, but I really wanted to cook for you since you always do it for me."

"Truth be told, I'm already full. When you said that you planned something special I thought you meant sex so I went to a buffet with Alfred. I can't eat another bite. If that's all, I guess I should be going. You know, exams and everything," Francis said getting up for the door right after Arthur placed what was supposed to be food on their plates.

"Please, at least taste it," Arthur begged putting his hands on his lover's shoulders to prevent him from getting up.

"I would, but I really like life...I'm not sure I want to throw it all away yet."

"It won't kill you, I promise. I eat my cooking all the time."

"Yes, but you've grown immune to its effects! I, on the other hand, have only eaten the finest of foods. I could easily just die of shock."

"Please, for me?" Arthur asked putting on the best puppy dog eyes he could pull off.

"_Mon Cher,_ I love you, but _non._"

"If you do, I'll... I'll sleep with you."

Francis looked at the food, then at his lover. He shook his head and pushed his food away.

"Every day twice a day, for a month," Arthur bargained.

Francis looked to be at the verge of tears, but shook his head.

"A year."

Francis stared at Arthur, tears in the corner of his eyes. He shifted his gaze back and forth from his lover to the dish in from of him numerous times.

"Please don't make me choose," the Frenchman whined, fear in his face.

"Aren't you always about proving your love to others? Well I want to try, just taste it. One bite."

Francis seriously contemplated this, "I have something to tell you. I didn't want to tell you like this, but I cheated on you."

Arthur loosened his grip on the other teen's shoulders. Francis simply sat there, head down so his hair would cover his face.

"I guess I should go," the French teen stated solemnly.

Arthur almost let Francis leave before he realized what was going on. "Eat the food Francis."

"I-uhh. It wasn't the first time either. It was ever since we started going out. You know, people never change. Once a player, always a player."

Arthur's fingers dug into Francis' shoulders so hard, he could've sworn he was bleeding. "Eat the food Francis."

"I have serious allergies. I'm allergic to-" Francis sniffed the food. There was no scent. "What the Hell is in this?"

"You're not allergic to anything you bloody liar."

"Why doesn't it have a scent? Food has a scent. What is this?"

"Taste it and find out."

"What? Is God going to tell me once I've reached Heaven?"

"You think you're going to Heaven?"

"No, probably not. I would get to the gate and God would be like, 'I can't let you in after you've eaten that horrid substance. It has already began to make you part demon. I'm sorry Francis.' Then I would reply, 'I knew it. I should have known better. The man I loved offered me this. The sad part is I didn't even get the sex.' Afterwards, God would say, 'Wow... I am really sorry for you. That... that must be awful.'

"You know what? I'm not getting into this now." Arthur took a spoonful of whatever that dark red colored mess on the plate was supposed to be, and ate it. "See? I'm still alive."

"I already told you! You're impervious!"

"Just eat it."

"Er- fine. Just ugh, I have to go to the bathroom first."

"The bathroom windows are too small to escape through."

Francis laughed nervously, "I wouldn't dream of it." As Francis walked to the bathroom he mentally calculated every possible escape method. None of the results seemed good. Once he reached the bathroom he locked the door and called Gilbert.

"What's up?"

"I'm at Arthur's house," Francis stated as he began to pace around the bathroom.

"Dude, you're finally getting lucky. Congrats!"

"I might, but at a great cost."

"What did I tell you? Awesome people don't cheat. You like him don't you?"

"_Non, c'est pas ça. Il a faire la cuisine. Je veux votre aide. S'il vous plaît. Qu'est que tu as pensé que je peux faire_?"

"Wait a second, I'm having Matthew translate what you just said. Ohh, you're on speaker by the way. Arthur made food? There's no way I can help you with that. You're screwed. Cut your losses man. Get out of there. Give him some bullshit reason to break up with you."

"I already tried that."

"Then suck it up. Eat the food. Survive like a boss. I'll call 911 after we end this call."

"_Merci,_ and if I don't survive this night, I'm writing a will as we speak. It will be under the sink written on some toilet paper," Francis stated, quickly scribbling some words down before stuffing the paper in its predestined location.

"Don't sweat it, his food can't be that bad."

"Eh, just make sure you call the ambulance."

"Okay, good luck, and don't forget to be awesome," Gilbert said in a fruitless attempt to console his friend before he hung up.

After the call ended, Francis said a quick prayer, gathered all his courage, and unlocked the bathroom door. Then begrudgedly trudged back to his seat where he took a spoonful of the mahogany colored semi-solid. He gave Arthur one last uncertain glance before placing the spoon in his mouth. _It doesn't taste as awful as I had originally thought, in fact, one could say it tasted quite-_ Francis' thoughts cut off when he passed out. Sirens wailed in the background with increasing volume as the Doppler Effect took its course.

When Francis woke up, he didn't open his eyes. He simply stayed in his bed and listened to the people around him.

"Is he going to be alright?" Asked the voice Francis recognized as Arthur Kirkland.

"We had to pump his stomach twice to get all the poison out. He's lucky we came when we did or else, well, I don't want to think about it. There are some people from the FBI here to talk with you. They request to speak with you privately?" said an unfamiliar voice.

"I'm not leaving Francis' side for the rest of the night. They can come in to talk to me, but I'm not going anywhere."

"I'll send them in."

"Whatever," Arthur stated taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

"Mr. Kirkland right?"

"Yeah, what seems to be the problem?"

"My name is Dr. Reid. My team and I were studying a case of a certain serial killer who jumps from state to state. We were on our way to the next state over when we heard about your incident. Can you please tell me what happened?"

"I made dinner for him and this happened."

"Excuse me."

"I'm not the best cook okay. I tried to be romantic and this happened."

Reid looked at the Brit with confusion. "Did you eat it?"

"Yeah."

"And nothing happened to you?"

"Not a thing."

"Interesting. You must've developed an immunity. Do you mind if we take a sample of your blood and the dish you er- _cooked_? You stand to make a lot of money. I think you've created an amazing weapon."

Francis opened his eyes to view his surroundings. He chuckled to himself as he heard the conversation. "I told you this would happen, but you don't listen to reason. That's much too logical for you isn't it?"


End file.
